


deep

by g4t1t0



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abuse, Choking, Force Choking (Star Wars), Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Post TLJ, Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22920508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/g4t1t0/pseuds/g4t1t0
Summary: snoke dies and kylo ren is lost. hux hates to see him this way, but for a reason he cant name/hux prefers to see ren enraged, violent, hungry/he gets what he wants
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	deep

**Author's Note:**

> hi long time no post! here is some kylux! please enjoy :)  
> beta read by [tastybaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastybaby)!!

Something has changed inside Kylo Ren, and not in the hyperbolic-metaphysical-force-way that Hux can’t begin to consider. No, he’s changed in a much more apparent way, and it’s troubling.

Hux stands outside of the throne room, knowing well what he’ll find when he requests entrance into Ren’s sanctuary. 

The knight- the Supreme Leader- has all but retreated into himself, finding solace, little as it is, in his absolute solitude. He broods in his throne room, surrounded by the cold vastness that peers in through the grand windows and little else. The mask is gone, yes, but it is replaced by something darker, angrier, sullen, sunken, and something red red red, burning Hux’s eyes every time he looks.

Old habits die hard, the Grand Marshal reflects. When Ren stalks into the war room with his face picked open, the blood of his wound thickening into scabbing, it’s less shocking than it should be. Nonetheless, the sight doesn’t fail to send Hux spiraling into Emotion, Unidentified. He pushes that sensation deep, prays it stays obscured.

A moment passes, then two, then five, ten, twenty. How long has he been waiting here, obsessing himself sick? Ren has to know— has to be not only aware of the man outside the door, but of the thoughts in his skull, fat and loud and obvious.

Yes, okay, alright.

Hux is concerned, and he can admit it.

He has never been keen to acknowledge such emotions. Since childhood, he has prided himself in his ability to alienate, to compartmentalize, to strike a match and set fire to those troublesome things. He would take pleasure in the smoke of his destroyed humanity— but that’s the thing that gnaws at him.

Ren is so human, so painfully emotional and explosive that it had disturbed Hux at first. Ren’s behavior called back to something in Hux’s past, though he had not a face nor name for it. Even before he had the chance to see the knight’s own face, he knew the festering of fear and anger behind his eyes, and knew it intimately.

It’s been at least fifteen minutes now, and Hux isn’t getting any closer to entering the throne room, though the pull is insisting.

He thinks of Ren as he first knew him. At the time it was all so serious, wasn’t it? Ren was tormented, unable to bare his chaos in his own hands, or so he had been deluded to think. Even that torment seems so trivial these days. Knowing what he knows now, Hux can only pretend he understands what happened on Crait. All he knows is what Ren has shown him, and the strange writhing deep in his gut- loud, pained, an emotion Hux will never identify.

Dwelling on it makes it worse— it transforms into a bloated ache.

Seeing Ren like this makes it worse, many times over. 

But Hux knows the reality of things. They are at war, and whether Ren is suffering or not, Hux needs to relay precious information to him.

He thinks of his father, of his cruel words that had formed him into a cold blade of a man. 

‘Focus on that, Armitage.’ He thinks to himself, then enters the throne room in the way you remove a bandage.

His steps are purposeful, his gaze straight ahead. When he locks eyes with Ren, he feels his heart lurch. Shame floods in Hux, followed by rage. From where, though?

“Supreme Leader.” He nods curtly, though he cannot disguise his discomfort.

Ren stares at him, hard, deep. Hux’s throat itches. The pressure in his head changes, a familiar twist and tug in his psyche. Then, it is gone.

Ren has reason to distrust, after all. Especially Hux.

“You’ve left your blaster outside.”

“As you’ve instructed, Ren.” Hux grimaces and tucks his hands behind his back. He wishes for his greatcoat.

The silence stretches on, labored and quivering, and Ren looks like he wants to break it.

It must be Ren projecting, because Hux can actually feel his thoughts racing around his head. Shortly after, he feels a pull more physical. Instead of fighting it, he willingly follows the force tugging him closer to Ren. He’s standing right at the base of the throne’s platform when Ren speaks again.

“You’ve come to waste my time.” His eyes are glossy, bloodshot. 

Concern, fear, longing.

“I’ve simply come to brief you on our casualty and damage releases. If you see it a waste of time, I’ll forward the reports to you so you can view them when you’re less...” Hux pauses. Less? Less what?

Ren waits for him to finish, keeps his eyes locked with the Grand Marshal’s. When Hux remains silent, tries to look away, Ren stands.

The movement is clumsy, jerky, hard to watch. Ren’s posture is even more slack than usual, though it’s evident he is favoring the old wound he accrued on Starkiller. Hux wonders of the state of it.

Ren skulks closer to Hux, and something in his eyes shifts. A shiver runs up Hux’s spine as he feels the atmosphere change. 

Heavier. Hotter.

Hux knows this place vaguely, knows the rules from the few times he’s visited.

“I am not a fragile person.” Ren spits out the words as he crosses into Hux’s space. “And I can taste your pity, I can feel it on my tongue. Do you know what it tastes like, do you remember? Do you need me to remind you?” 

Ren is still higher on the platform, giving him several inches over Hux. The ambient light that casts over the throne room has Ren enveloped in an ethereal red.

He looks so, so tired.

Hux feels that ache again.

“Enough!”

And there is a hand at Hux’s throat, a real one, but it’s different. No throttling, no crushing. It’s either a warning, or maybe Ren is unsure.

Hux is unfazed, and almost leans into the grip. Disgusting.

“I’m not here as an enemy, Ren. You know it. I’ve left that behind. I’m here as your ally, as your Grand Marshal.” He pauses and closes his eyes, feeling the leather of Ren’s gloves on his throat. “I’m here to serve you as Supreme Leader, insufferable as you’ve been.”

“Is that so?” Ren squeezes, and Hux feels himself flush. “You serve me?”

Hux is quiet— He knows the question is loaded, and he knows exactly what Ren wants to hear. He knows the truth isn’t too far off, either.

“Doesn’t sound like it.” He lets go and walks past Hux, leaving the grand marshal cold.

Hux follows Ren with his eyes, up to where he seizes, a few feet from the massive bay-like view ports. The overwhelming ache travels across the throne room with him, weakening only slightly. Enough so Hux can get a breath in, at least.

“I have so many questions.” Ren looks out into the vastness. He seems to be talking more to himself, but eager to have Hux as audience. His hands are tangled in front of him, and Hux can see how nervous he is. “There is so much available to me, Grand Marshal. I can reach into the Force and take what I’d like, consume stars and planets until I’m fat and sated.”

Hux doesn’t follow, but he never does.

“I am feared, I am impervious. I have more power than you will taste in your life.”

And there’s anxiety there, something smoking with no fire, and ah.

Ren turns around and catches Hux’s gaze.

“I don’t want to be like Supreme Leader Snoke. Yes, he was accomplished, wise, powerful-”

“But he failed.” Hux interjects.

“He did. He failed the Order. He failed me. He failed _us_.” Ren closes his eyes, and once more Hux is being pulled towards Ren. He follows.

“He was capable, but he was alone.” And there is pain on Ren’s face, a memory striking his mind, hot. “I will not be like him.”

“Supreme Leader?” Hux stands before Ren, searches his face and comes up empty, but if he pushes, he can feel Ren offering something. 

“I don’t trust you, Armitage Hux.” And the words aren’t nearly as factual as they’re meant. They’re laced with something- something hurt, betrayed, something vulnerable.

He reaches to Hux once more, places his hand on the burning skin of Hux’s neck again. This touch is different, though. Warm, with electricity and desperation underneath.

A familiar touch.

“But I trust no one as I do you.” His voice weakens, and heavens, he smiles. 

Hux thinks back, recalls their hostility, but also the moments in between, scarce as they were. They had shared a brief history as lovers, even, when time had allowed it. It feels like a lifetime ago.

This isn’t that, though. There’s no proposal for a night together, no hungry grasping and biting, nothing. Ren doesn’t desire Hux like that anymore, can’t. Hux doesn’t think Ren bears the capacity any longer.

This is something else, and something much more vulnerable, were Ren capable of it.

Hux reaches out his hand, but Ren catches it. He fingers the hem of Hux’s left arm, then right.

“I’ve left the blade with my blaster.”

Ren’s hands slip down, grip both of Hux’s in passing, but not enough to mean anything. 

Hux lets his dominant hand seek out Ren again, and though he’s obviously curious, maybe even paranoid, Ren makes no move to stop him this time.

The gloved hand of the grand marshal finds the old bolt wound on Ren’s side, and presses firm against it. He cannot feel it through those many layers, but Hux imagines it hot, red, mutilated in a way so characteristic to Ren alone. The wound has always gotten so close to healing, then it had opened again, and again, and again.

Hux pushes harder, gripping Ren’s side and forcing his thumb against the wound. When Ren’s breath hitches, a delicate sound, a familiar sound, Hux pushes even deeper. 

“You know I will care for you, Supreme Leader.” The air is heavier. “Ren.”

“Armitage-“

“Ah.” Hux smiles, feels the ache envelope his body. He is weak for this, and he knows the weakness intimately. “I forget you’re still such a child. You need someone to hold your hand. But now the Supreme Leader is gone, and no one is there for you.

“You remember, I know you do. You were his favorite. He searched through the ether for you, a frightened animal, a child. He found the brightest spark in the void and nursed it, tempered it, created the most fearsome warrior in the galaxy.” Hux sighs, “That’s how it goes right?”

Ren is absolutely silent, and is frozen still. His eyes focus on where their bodies meet, and not much else. Hux May imagine it, but he can feel Ren rocking shallowly against the pressure on his wound.

“But he’s not here for that any longer. He’s not here to discipline you, nor is anybody. It makes me awful curious, Ren. 

“If he is not here to beat you into submission any longer, what are you capable of? What does the terrible knight Kylo Ren have in his future? What has he planned for us?”

Ren’s mouth opens, then closes, and Hux yearns for the words on his tongue, yearns for Kylo uncensored as he had been years ago. 

“He made me stronger-“

“He made you fearful.” And Hux jabs into the wound, earning a grunt from Ren. But he doesn’t pull away. “I want to see you without that fear, Ren. You’ve become such a different man, I cannot tolerate it. You bite like a caged animal, not at all like I remember you. Biding your time in your cage until something- Snoke, the scavenger girl, Han Solo, prods you and-“

“Enough.” Ren straightens and closes in on Hux, challenging the pressure in his side. 

Hux knows this is unfair, knows this is far too similar to the manipulation Snoke had made Ren suffer. The taste of irony is unpalatable, but he continues.

“Where are your teeth, Kylo Ren? What happened to striking first? You’re free now, you’re so utterly alone now, the galaxy is at your feet. Why are you still so scared? _What_ are you scared _of_? A weakling in the force, a newborn where you have dominance?”

Hux can feel it centered on him now, powerful, hungry- Ren’s attention. His body is shaking and his pupils are blown, and this is a look Hux has always preferred on Ren. He wears the eyes of a rabid cur well.

He opens his mouth once more, but is frozen by the phantom grip of the force around his throat and while Hux has obviously never liked this, he knows it to be useless to fight. He asked for it in so many words anyways.

It may be foolish that Hux trusts Ren enough to know he wouldn’t kill him, not like this at least. It’s not nearly poetic enough, not romantic at all, not for Ren who needs meaning in all things.

Hux is pushed back against the reinforced glass, and the phantom hand squeezes hard, drawing out pained whimper. 

“You’re an idiot, you don’t know what you want. You want to serve me, to care for me? You’re delusional. You want nothing to do with me.” The force constricts even tighter and Hux thinks maybe he was wrong to trust him. “You want _me_ to trust _you_? You want me to show _you_ what submission is like? True submission, serving me not as you served Snoke, but as I served him. You are a fool to think I am scared, Armitage. Of anything. You don’t know fear like I’ve known.” 

He’s tearing up now, and a deep red stains his wet lips and gaunt cheeks. Hux knows this isn’t sorrow, knows that it’s instead something so special to Ren, so unique. It’s the darkness Snoke ripped up to the surface, the darkness Ren guarded carefully until his world began to fall.

But this is exactly how Hux wants Ren. He wants Ren like this for the Order, for the galaxy, and maybe there’s something else.

Hux hears his pulse hammering in his ears, but through it he can feel Ren’s ferocity, his aggression. Hux wants more of it, and he’s sure Ren can tell.

Ren releases the grip from Hux’s throat, then, and before Hux can collapse to the ground, Ren’s hands are tight on his arms, and his mouth—

Ren has never been very graceful in this regard. He’s always been far too hungry, far too greedy, and so impatient. It was something Hux had detested in other lovers, but craved in Ren. He liked being wanted like that, like he was the only thing keeping Ren sane.

He might have been, once, but Ren is far gone now.

The kiss is almost violent, Ren devouring Hux’s mouth and swallowing his whimpers. Unable to catch his breath, Hux begins to waver. His knees tremble and his world turns white, but Ren is holding him up.

And all too soon, he pulls away, letting Hux crumble to the ground.

Ren follows after him, kneeling next to him and holding his face. His eyes are glossy, his lips are swollen, but those lips pull into a smile, and Ren is laughing.

Hux’s vision returns, and his eyes are tied to Ren. Again he is changing, desolation into anger into mania. Hux aches, longs to tear the fierce grin off of Ren’s face with his teeth.

“You terrible thing.” Hux laments and leans into Ren’s hands. “You’re unaware of what I really want for you, aren’t you? With all your magic, you’re unable to see past your own self loathing.” 

It’s a moment before Ren regains himself, then he leans in again for another kiss.

Hux draws away, keeping Ren’s eyes with his own. Those dark eyes are wild, red, wet, blown out.

Then, Hux finds himself pushing past Ren’s hands and into his face, crushing their mouths together in a manner equally graceless as their first. He’s starving for Ren, for his rage and his despair. He wants to feel that turmoil, that forbidden emotion, deep in his gut as Ren bonds with him once more. It’s pathetic how much he’s missed this, how desperate he’s been for their anguish to coalesce, for his body to be saturated with Ren’s aggression again. 

Hux sinks his teeth into Ren’s bottom lip, hard enough to bruise, to draw a rumble from Ren’s chest. He swallows down the noise, starved, and returns his own.

For all Ren’s violence, for all his angst and brooding, Hux knows another thing about him. 

With Ren’s face tucked into Hux’s neck, they’re close enough for those wretched emotions to spill deep into the grand marshal. Perhaps it’s a good thing to be this close, this intimate. He can taste the waves, the swings of Ren’s extremely volatile moods, and something far more hidden. He cannot use the force, but he tries. Tries hard to dig into Ren’s psyche, to push his fingers into the rawness of those emotions.

Maybe Ren notices it, because soon he is opening to Hux, pushing that sorrow, that joy, that anger, and that unidentifiable emotion, deep, deep, deeper into him.

Hux holds onto it, cradles Ren in his arms along with it. Again, he can sense the bitterness of it in his mouth, pungent like senoti sap. He rolls it on his tongue and feels the emotion capture his entire body. It is familiar, heavy, so powerful and all consuming.

There is no desire to name it, ultimately. What difference would it make to either of them? 

For now, Hux is content with his belly full of it, and gasps when it spikes as he again digs his fingers into Ren’s old wounds.


End file.
